


Across the Pale Parabola of Joy

by Zoya1416



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse, WODEHOUSE P. G. - Works
Genre: Blandings Castle, Gen, Imposter, Modern Poetry, Poem critique, Unrequited love/hero worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: InLeave it to Psmith,Psmith follows Eve Halliday to Blandings Castle and impersonates the Canadian poet Ralston McTodd. One of McTodd's most famous poems, long lost to the world, has now resurfaced with a contemporaneous critique from a fellow guest at Blandings.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Across the Pale Parabola of Joy

The only fragment we have of a lost poem by the powerful singer of Saskatoon has been its first line, _Across the pale parabola of joy._ The poem has now been rediscovered together with a contemporaneous comment written by his devoted admirer Aileen Peavey.

Across the pale parabola of Joy  
My infinite dream rabbit  
Eaten tenderly, oh, as first lettuce

First let us in memory go  
Ten petal soft, two hyacinth blue  
The delicate outline of your Moose Jaw  
Garden

White secant seeking single white secant  
For long walks and physical quadratics  
The camellia nickers  
Of the ultimate horses ask  
What is it comes over parting flesh

Head Gardener  
Alpha and Omega  
Savagely green tendrils parted

Oh bitter  
Hyperbola of despair  
Gravely seen, snow  
Underneath gray Canadian prairie sky  
Like no other gray prairie sky

Rising in infinite phallus of sublimation  
Writing driven in the cold Saskatchewan dawn  
Like no other cold dawn  
My Muse  
God save the Queen

It is my happiest duty to elucidate the wondrous poem left to us by the master of modern poetry, Ralston McTodd. I, Aileen Peavey, am so fortunate to have spent time on my knees, I mean at his knees, learning from this powerful singer of Saskatoon. I was wounded to learn that some do not entirely grasp (or even _mock_ ) the pure, transcendent message he brought us during his recent stay at Blandings Castle. It is my great privilege to be allowed this review of _Across the Pale Parabola of Joy._

 _Across the Pale Parabola of Joy_ is the story of one man’s first love, its loss, and his spiritual redemption from this pain. Mr. McTodd refers to his love interest as his “dream rabbit,” and speaks of her being eaten tenderly, as first lettuce, which I take to mean nibbling on the ears, as we all know rabbits have large ears.

In memory he returns to thoughts of his first love and her ten petal soft fingers, her two hyacinth blue eyes. He reveals the locale of their assignation, the darling village of Moose Jaw.

The next two lines - 

“White secant seeking single white secant  
For long walks and physical quadratics”

are curious, but I possess the key. I listened eagerly to Mr. McTodd describe a prose effort, a fantastical story of the future. In this perverse future, men and women alike are stripped of society’s conventional demands for proper introductions. Moreover, society is so changed that every man and every woman can play the wanton, brazenly placing advertisements for lovers in the newspapers. In that scandalous imaginary society, people are free to follow the luxuriant desires of their concupiscent loins. Although Mr. McTodd tells me no one will touch this story – I mean he has not yet found a publisher – it did explain his placing a mock advertisement within the poem, to advertise his own work.

The next three lines are an allusion to the physical act of sex. “Camellia-nickers" = cami-knickers, “ultimate horses" = a reference to the ultimate sexually charged animals, and I leave it to the reader to speculate about parting flesh. It is absurd for any reader to assume that Mr. McTodd nearly penned a crude expression just because ‘horses ask’ happens to sound similar to a phrase this reviewer has certainly never heard. The nickering, or neighing, of the ultimate horses is asking, pushing us into a sexually charged arena. That is all.

What happens to this requited love of Mr. McTodd? He loses her. Who takes her from him? God. The next verse tells us so.

Head Gardener  
Alpha and Omega  
Savagely green tendrils parted.

The green tendrils are twined together in their bed, their Moose Jaw garden, their Eden. Then the Alpha and Omega parts them.

He sees her buried. “Gravely seen, snow,” and falls into despair.

But the Canadian genius is not daunted. This is the end of Ralston McTodd’s First Love, but the beginning of the poet. In gigantic, creative outspurts, “Rising in infinite phallus of sublimation,” he overcomes grief to write about his lost love. 

Childish quibbling about the last line should cease. England of course has a King, but Mr. McTodd is not saluting him. He is saluting her, the Queen, the Muse, the lost Dream Rabbit.

I give you then, the Maitre, Ralston McTodd.  
(Signed)  
Miss Aileen Peavey

**Author's Note:**

> The Toronto international meeting of The Wodehouse Society in 2003 offered a challenge prompt to complete the Canadian poet Ralston McTodd's work from the single line given, and suggested adding Canadian references in the poem. I was pleased to win the competition and am posting it here now. Commentary from Mr. McTodd's devotee is new work. A bonus point to anyone finding a reference from e.e.cummings.


End file.
